Innocent Enough
by Cerbera
Summary: When Professor Snape is given cosmetics as a prank gift, he is absolutely furious. In his tantrum, he spills the contents of the vial upon himself, only to find that this prank is much more insidious than it first seemed.
1. Just Another Dreadful Day Gone

**Innocent Enough**

When Professor Snape is given cosmetics as a prank gift, he is absolutely furious. In his tantrum, he spills the contents of the vial upon himself, only to find that this prank is much more insidious than it first seemed.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any characters that JK Rowling dreamt up. Obviously.

**Author's Note: Took on this pairing because it was challenging and nearly impossible (Ron x Severus). I will try to be as literate and descriptive as I can, reviews are welcomed, as I have a hard time seeing what I do wrong. Hopefully I stay IC! Story occurs in 6th year, Voldemort is dead after Harry's 4th year due to complications in his resurrection. Someone had to make that concoction he used to resurrect himself... Probably Snape. And maybe he, yknow... tampered a bit?**

Chapter 1: Just Another Dreadful Evening

Today had been awful. No, Severus Snape decided, shaking his head vehemently, it had been absolutely _dreadful_. The only highlight he could possibly have gleened from this opening evening feast was the fact that the new first years had been shaking pitifully in their line leading up to the Sorting Hat. Not that they didn't tremble every year, but Snape could not help but compliment them, _the whites of their eyes in their horror had been __mesmerizing_. If anything, his first period Potions class would be moderately entertaining. There, he would set those nitwits in their rightful place as well as uphold his steadfast tradition of sending multiple young Hufflepuffs crying from his classroom. He let a sick warmth fill his chest as he pictured it, lifting one side of his mouth in a sinister smirk.

The smirk quickly abandoned him, however, as he remembered the rest of the students within the Great Hall. He would still have to acknowledge the existance of the Potter boy and his merry band of misfits for another two years. A small part of Professor Snape had been daydreaming about the possibility of their death by this time in their schooling career. He didn't particularly _want_ those three wretches to die, he just admitted to himself that it wouldn't be a horrible thing.

Professor Snape let out a deep and agitated sigh as he made his way down the stairs toward the dungeons where his classroom, office, and living quarters resided. _At least Potter's insufferable sense of self importance has disappeared since the Dark Lord's death..._ he thought exhaustedly. His footsteps fell almost silently onto the stone beneath despite his rather swift pace. Having been a spy (and enjoying the surprise in the eyes of his student "prey"), soft footfall came to him without effort.

As he came upon the thick, dark wooden doors that guarded his quarters, his baritone voice drolled, "Open". A rather large _thunk_ followed immediately and the doors slid open smoothly before him. It wasn't the most innovative password, he admitted, but it mattered not. The castle knew who he was.

By the time the door closed behind Professor Snape with a gentle click, he had already arrived at his bed and was quickly undressing himself. He had no intention of wasting what little sleep came to him. As he slid his usual black cloak away from his shoulders, something small resting on his writing desk caught his attention from the corner of his eye. Lifting the cloak onto a wooden peg upon the wall beside his wardrobe, he turned around and approached his desk with little curiousity. The package sat upon one of his open books, _Elixirs and Potions: The Odd and Curious_. It was a fairly small red box, minute silver words adorning the lid shyly. He could very barely make out "Snape" from the delicate silver swirls and decided that the rest was unimportant. His heavy eyelids were not making it any easier to read such agitatingly small handwriting.

Lifting the box from the desk, he opened it uninterestedly. Within moments, his expression turned from quiet disinterest to controlled furor. The contents of the box included only two small gifts: a small, opaque, sky blue vial and a note that read very easily, the handwriting upon it bold and black.

**MAKE-UP FOR THE GREASY DUNGEON BAT **

**A LITTLE SOMETHING TO HELP YOU LOOK LESS LIKE A DECAYING CORPSE**

Teeth grinding, Professor Snape stood glaring at the bottle for many moments, the intensity from the look easily enough to send even a Gryffindor running in fear. Gingerly, he plucked the small vial from its place and held it close to his face, eyebrows meeting together in a terrifying scowl. Only when he felt his fury snap did his expression change from one of hatred to surprise. Liquid as delightfully blue as the bottle burst out from the shattered vial, spraying his face generously with the rather thick solution. Bringing up a sleeve to wipe the filth from his face, Professor Snape let out a snarl. _If I ever find the drooling idiot behind this, I swear on my life, he will never again see the light of-_ His thoughts cut off abruptly as he felt his heart flutter sickeningly.

Barely restraining himself from retching, Professor Snape felt his strength leave him. He had only just reached his bed when he felt his body go entirely numb, all except for his heart which continued to flutter with terrifying speed. What felt like both an eternity and only a moment later, Professor Snape found himself curled into a tight ball at the foot of his bed.

Standing up wearily, he gagged once more at the intense sensation of vertigo, his vision flickering for a moment before stability found his body once more. Cautiously, he stood up to his full hieght and examined himself wearily.

He was entirely silent, body rigid, expression locked in what looked like a silent growl. He found himself bearing a smaller frame, less hieght, and a considerably healthier looking complexion (although still pale as a vampire), Professor Snape just stood there, stunned.

Another eternity passed before he found the will within himself to move, and when he did, he burst from his room, doors slamming open loudly behind him. Practically flying up the flights of stairs, it was only a matter of moments before he found himself before Albus's office entrance. Murderously, Severus Snape hissed, "Chocolate Cheesecake". Quickly pushing his way in, it was only a moment before he saw Albus Dumbledore before him, idlely glancing at a disorderly heap of paperwork upon his desk.

Looking up at him calmly, Professor Snape did everything he could to refrain from roaring at the man as his expression remained calm and dotty, a gentle smile gracing his aged features.

"Well good evening, Severus, is anything the matter?"

"Do not patronize me, Albus._ Not. Now_." His voice was stern and filled with venom as he forced his voice to remain quiet. He couldn't help but flinch, however, as he heard his own voice echo lightly in the otherwise silent room.

It was a voice that he had last heard in his final years as a student at Hogwarts.

It was his voice alright. But it was the voice of a brooding young man and not the Potions Master that Severus had been only moments before. Fists balled at his side, Professor Snape could not stop himself from trembling in his rage.

Someone was going to die.

(Short intro of sorts. Future chapters shall be longer! ~Cerbera)


	2. Introductions

**Innocent Enough**

**Author's Note: Quite busy at the moment with classes and my job, not a single day off... but I will do my best to update regularly and keep things moving along. Also, thank you to one particular reviewer for his/her ideas! I've already got everything laid out on the table actually, but your input will probably be used** ~

Chapter 2: Introductions

Snape rubbed his weary, sleepless eyes as he rounded the last of the endless spirals down to the dungeon. What used to be his dungeon. He kept his fists clenched and pressed against his sides, his eyes dully watching each cold cobblestone step pass by. It had been a long night. He was still seething from his conversation with Albus, his mind mulling over all that had happened and been said, trying to straighten things out._ That senile, shriveled prune... how dare he..._ Snape could see it all happen again in his mind's eye.

Albus, sitting at his desk with his hands folded passively, motioned to him with a nod. Snape had obediently stepped forward to sit in the singular, rather plushy chair which sat directly before the Headmaster. Niether of them said anything for a good, long moment. Albus's twinkling eyes seemed to pass over him multiple times, observing Snape and the changes to his appearance. His carefree, light voice suddenly pierced the silence as Snape stared at the Headmaster intently. "It's an impressive effect, it is... you have obviously taught your students very well, Severus. I have only ever seen this potion but once before," he chuckled, eyes drifting to the left in rememberance of some distant time, "However, you need not worry."

Snape waited for Albus to continue, but when he simply sat there before him, contentedly twiddling his thumbs and smiling, Snape could not help but feel tense. Infact, his body became more rigid and his eyes narrowing only slightly. As the silence enveloped them, Snape could feel a growing sensation of concern in his chest, growing larger and larger with each breath. Albus wasn't saying anything, only looking at him thoughtfully. When Snape shuffled in his chair restlessly, his mouth opening to begin some sentence, the Headmaster cut him off before he could even inhale. "I have seen it, yes Severus, and judging by your expression, I would have to say that this particular concoction isn't something you're familiar with? Not that I'm surprised, as it is mostly used for pranks..." His lips crinkled in a smile, "The Aetatis Lumen Elixir brings youth back to anything that comes into contact. It is not a permanent state, but there isn't any cure either. It will wear off with time, however," Albus raised a finger, pointing to the cieling as if there laid the answers to all questions, "There is no way to predict when the effects will end."

Finding himself at the heavy doors of his own classroom, Snape drew in a steady breathe. He was stressed, anxious, and temperamental. The look he had seen on Albus's face that night had not made things any easier. It was innocent yet ever so subtley mischevious._ "For the time being... I'm sure you wish to keep your dignity. You will not teach in this condition, instead..."_ The words echoed too him, light-hearted words that filled Snape with malice. _"Why don't you enjoy your youth, Severus? When in Rome..."_

Pressing the door open, he slinked inside quickly and quietly, hoping not to draw the attention of his new... classmates. _Classmates..._ The thought sent a sudden shiver down his body, distaste showing only slightly on his face. Distractedly, he found an open desk and began to unload his potions supplies. He was deep in thought, his face rather blank, when the last few students trickled into the room. He could feel their curious gaze upon him and it took everything within him to remain calm. He didn't like school when he went through it the first time, and Snape was absolutely positive that the end result would be no different now.

Over the sound of clinking vials and murmuring, a voice rang clearly from behind Snape. "Uhh, mate? This is my seat..." Snape glanced over his shoulder only to be greeted with the sight of a rather confused looking Ron Weasley. Snape couldn't help himself from smirking slightly, it was so odd to see the idiot looking at him this way. He was so used to looks of distaste from the Weasleys that to see one looking more casually at him sent an odd sensation running through him. "My apologies," Snape spoke softly but there was ice in his tone. Snape suddenly frowned and looked back at the Weasley again as the Potter boy sat himself down as well, casting him a suspicious glance. It only took him a small moment to get re-situated in a desk one row behind the couple of dunderheads. The thought of being so near that boastful Potter was as much motivation as he needed. Leaning his head on his palm, Snape glanced around the room moodily. Many faces turned away as they noticed him glaring. Snape raised an eyebrow. He knew that new students were always a curious interest for the students, but this seemed a little odd.

It then hit him, we has sitting on the Gryffindor half of the classroom, his Slytherin robes seeming in stark contrast with the crowd. It was such a blatant sign of how distraught he was, he hadn't even been rude or jeering to the Potter Club yet either... And even past the fact that he was already so out of place, it didn't help his case either that Snape still looked very much like Snape. He still wore the same long, black hair, the same dull expression and body language, the same black eyes... Maybe, perhaps, he should style his hair slightly different... At the thought, he suddenly felt a wave of depression and aggrevasion wash over him. Lifting his fingers to his temples, he massaged them gently. _Dark magic, Voldemort, death... and yet I can't keep my sanity in check while in a student's desk... Merlin's beard, to even think of changing my hair, and for what? Popularity?_ Snape let out an audible "tch" sound.

The doors to the classroom opened once more to reveil a rather cautious and out of place McGonagall. Ignoring the intrigued expressions on the faces of almost every student, she strode stiffly forward, her lips pursed. "I'm sure you are all wondering why Professor Snape was not at the Great Hall this morning for breakfast, nor here now. It's my duty to inform you that he is... occupied at the moment with personal affairs. I will be taking his place while he is away." Her eyes flickered in Snape's direction and he crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow and lifting his lips in an amused half-smile. He could see her eyes narrow ever so slightly. shoulders lift tensely.

But then she smiled brightly, and keeping her gaze upon him, she made a motion with her hands in his direction. "And while one man is missing, it seems we have a new student to replace the absence. This is," she hesitated for a moment, Snape could tell she was holding back a fit of giggles, "This is Esmond Thorne, and I expect you all to treat him with decency. Now, if you would please turn to..."

* * *

><p>As Snape left his Potions class, he let out a sigh, a look of amusement crossing his features. It had been almost enjoyable to watch McGonagall act so flustered and out-of-sorts. It brought him the very slightest sense of satisfaction to know that he was not the only one who was feeling out of place. Poor old McGonagall probably had to use a Time Turner to fulfill her position in both her Transfiguration classes and his Potions classes. He almost grinned at what misery he knew it must cause her.<p>

The rest of his classes were dull and time seemed to flow together seamlessly, his mind wandering freely. Despite that he hated his own situation and the pleasure it brought to the other professors that they now could talk down to him, Snape had to admit,it had its advantages. Since he already had taken all of his classes once before, he needn't pay any attention, and for that he was grateful. It had been a long time since he had just had time to himself to think. Not to mention, he had plenty of opportunities to slip in snide comments to his former colleagues while they taught, making their faces grow red with annoyance at his arrogance. It was innocent teasing though, naturally, how could they not see?

"Hey...hey?..!" Suddenly Snape went rigid as he collided with someone. Startled, he almost toppled over onto the ground, but a hand caught him just before he could hit the hard stone floor. In one swift motion, Snape was pulled back up into a standing position, though his knees were signifigantly weaker from the sudden surprise. "Watch wh-" Snape began to growl out, but upon seeing Ron Weasley before him, his mouth shut tight. He resigned to simply furrow his eyebrows and watch the redhead as he stood a little awkwardly before him. Ron smiled a timid smile, "Are you quite alright?" When there was no reply, Ron shifted a little uncomfortably, but kept up his kind smile nonetheless. Letting out a tense chuckle, he sighed, "Don't worry, I understand. You're new and probably quite overloaded. This place is huge! But, um... don't worry 'bout it, just keep your heads out of the clouds, unless ofcourse you're in Flying classes but... Hey, if you ever need help, you can talk to me, okay?"

Snape's face remained blank. "I'll keep that in mind," he muttered softly, the quietness of his voice had meant to sound insulting but instead came out quite shyly. He looked away and to the side, waiting for Ronald to leave.

Ron simply smiled again, a kind and empathetic smile, something Snape wasn't accustomed to seeing. Turning round to leave, he raised a hand in a small wave, glancing back, "And it's Ron Weasley by the way. See you round!"

Huffing quietly, Snape strode towards the Great Hall with a hasty speed. He was angry, annoyed, frustrated. Perhaps it was because he had done something stupid and empty-headed and ran into another person, a mark of stupidity that he would have sneered at if he hadn't been involved. Perhaps it was because, that smile... when was the last time anyone had smiled so genuinely and innocently at him? He shook his head sternly, no, that wasn't it. Ronald Weasley was simply an idiot.

With his focus being mainly on his hatred of idoits, Snape hadn't noticed a band of three boys hiding in a notch in the wall as he passed them. He hadn't noticed them staring at him and grinning evily. Snape hadn't noticed that he had wandered away from the Great Hall and into a deserted passageway. Needless to say, Snape was quite surprised to feel himself suddenly collide to the floor, an immense invisible pressure pushing against his entire body and preventing him from motion. As the sound of shoes against the stone floor grew nearer, he could hear faint snickering as well.

"Well, would you look at this? You know, I've always wanted to give Snape a good kick. I'm sure this smaller, uglier version of him will do just fine."


	3. Flattered, I'm Sure

**Innocent Enough**

**Author's Note: Why did I decide to start writing something so extensive when I knew I would be so busy? Lord knows. I promise you that I will not forget or drop this story, however. I know how it feels to be on the reader end of that situation... And, to Sally the Bear, your wish is granted. Snape's fate was fixed that way before you even said anything!**

Chapter 3: Flattered, I'm Sure

Snape drew in a steady breath, recognizing the voice instantly. An emotion welled up inside of his chest that he could almost name. Disappointment, perhaps with a pinch of anger? Yes, that sounded right.

He remained silent as the lead boy nudged his side with a shoe. "It's embarrasing to see a Slytherin looking so pathetic and helpless. Even spoke with that Weaselbee, you know. It's not wise," Draco Malfoy jeered, now speaking directly to Snape as he laid there, face to the floor, "to meddle with such filth. Weaselbee may be pureblood, but his whole family is full of traitorous beggars. Sad, poor bastards..." His voice trailed off.

Snape withheld the temptation to roll his eyes. Even though Draco was his godson, it didn't stop him from being a bigger thorn in his side than even Potter could manage. He was not only insufferable, but he was completely self indulgent. So much false pride. Snape had left Draco on top of his silly throne out of respect for the Malfoy lineage as well as to irritate the Potter boy further. As much as he had wanted to put the snivelling brat in his place, Severus had restrained himself for the better good. But he was Esmond Thorne right now. Not Severus Snape.

Snape's quiet voice sliced through the air like Death's scythe, words carefully articulated. "If I were you, Mr. Malfoy, I would try and find some dignity somewhere down in that cowardly, disgraceful head of yours. Lacing your words with such contemptuous, filthy language is unbefitting of someone of _your_ high status." He continued, "If you can not handle yourself properly, perhaps you should run back to your father's side, in his shadow, where you belong. You worthless, spineless, hopeless_ boy_. I can not imagine the utter disappointment your parents must feel every time you walk into their household..."

A small murmur fell from Draco's lips and a rush of wind filled the hallway. Snape closed his eyes tightly as dust attempted to blind him. He could hear a few breathless metallic sounds, like the gnashing of teeth in the maw of some unknown horror. The eerie beauty of the sounds and wind was interrupted as he felt sharp pains erupt all over his body. Grinding his teeth, Snape forced himself to ignore them. It was an instinctual thing for him, as he had been made to endure many atrocities at the hands of Voldemort in the past. The stabbing pains continued, and other pains were added into the mix as Malfoy placed a powerful kick across his face.

When Snape felt the familiar sensation of trickling blood, he clenched his fists. This had gone on far enough. As the wind continued to whip and whirl around him, the steely whispers singing into the rushing air, Snape pushed himself off of the floor, his arms holding firmly beneath the weight of whatever spell bound him. With one thought, one wordless pulse of magic, he shattered his restraints.

Now standing up to his full height, only now did he turn to face his agressors. He mused that he must have looked like some sort of hell bent demon at that moment, his black hair untamed in the wind, his eyes glowing with hatred, his stance powerful and forboding. Draco gaped at him, his pitiful face very much resembling that of a dying fish. It took only one smirk from Snape to send him running away as if he had met with Death himself. The backs of Goyle and Crabbe stumbled along closely and clumsily.

Only after the magical whirlwind and the sound of desperate footfall had both faded did Snape notice that he was injured.

He hissed in contempt as his body ached and stung. Looking himself over, he groaned. His new uniform was sliced and torn in many places, a complete wreck. His pale skin peeked through many of the cuts in the fabric, contrasted by a deep red that was seeping its way downward. Some of them were small, comparable to paper cuts, while others were gashes and would require medical attention, probably leaving scars. Letting out a slow, frustrated sigh, Snape ran a hand through his hair. It stopped suddenly, however. He could feel his face grow hot with fury.

His long, black, even locks had been desimated. While they still held a similiar length, every lock was an uneven length, the slicing spell leaving the tips sheared in odd angles. Grinding his teeth together, Snape turned on his heel and headed in the direction of the dungeons. His stride was steady but hastened. No, he would not allow anyone to see him in such a state. He wasn't even skilled enough at healing spells to fix himself, it was pathetic. He would rely only on his potions, not the silly wand waving of some irritating healer.

* * *

><p>Only steps away. He had been only steps away from the staircase that would lead him to safety. Three, perhaps four. But it was not to be. Fate, the cruel and horrible bitch that she was, would not have Snape keeping his dignity. No, not this year. Every fiber of Snape's body restrained the erge to hex the group of students who, upon seeing 'Esmond Thorne' covered in gashes and stab wounds, were now rushing to his aid. His rescue. Oh, that was just <em>ripe<em>.

"Merlin... what happened to you? Who did- are you alright? Here, let me..." Hermione Granger rushed over to Snape, leaving her friends behind to look upon him with widened eyes. He almost chuckled despite himself, the absudity of the whole situation was absolutely ridiculous. Granger looked so worried, concerned, and for Snape. It was laughable.

As she lifted her wand and began to cast a healing spell, Snape stopped her with a fixed glare and stern words. "Stop this instant. I don't need any assistance, as I am fully capable of treating my own wounds."

Hermione raised an eyebrow and began to make a retort when Harry stepped forward and waved a hand dismissively, shaking his head and keeping his gaze warily on Snape. "If he doesn't want your help 'Mione, don't bother. He's just a Slytherin anyway, he probably deserved it." Putting a hand on Hermione's shoulder, he pulled her back and away from Snape gently.

Shaking away from his touch, Hermione turned around and glared at Harry, apauled. "How could you _say_ that Harry? He may be a Slytherin but that doesn't make him any less human, even if that's what they would like us to believe." Turning back to Snape, her voice softened and an apologetic smile graced her features, "Please, excuse my friend, he didn't mean it." From the glare that he was recieving from just behind Granger, Snape could tell that Potter had indeed meant his words. As the two shot daggers at other, Hermione seemed to take notice and promptly moved to stand directly between the two boys. "Honestly... Now, please, won't you let me heal you? I'm quite sufficient at-"

"As I stated before, I do not. Require. Sympathy. Nor. Assistance." Snape let each word fall from his lips with steely emphasis, his features remaining cold and distant._ I will not give these nitwits the pleasure of being the heroes any longer... Merlin knows that Potter and his gang don't need to inflate their egos any further..._/ Snape relaxed, although not visibly, when Hermione simply settled for letting out a small sigh.

The four stood in silence for a moment, all of them assessing the others. Potter looked absolutely annoyed, ready to be on his way again. Hermione was troubled, obviously feeling inadequate. Ron simply watched, observing, some unknown emotion in his eyes. 'Esmond Thorne' was blank, his body rigid.

"Come on then... let's leave him alone like he wants, for Merlin's sake." Potter huffed, not willing to wait around any longer. As he turned to leave, Hermione followed immediately, if not a little hesitantly. Only Ron stayed behind, eyes resting on Snape thoughtfully. Snape let his eyes rest on Ron as well, although his gaze was far colder in comparrison.

Once the footsteps of his companions had faded into the distance, it was Ron who finally broke the silence that filled the room. "_Episkey_..." he murmured, a small smile playing along his lips as the spell went to work. Snape felt a comforting warmth fall over him as his sharp pains slowly faded away into small annoyances. His larger gashes remained, but the majority of his injuries had gone without a struggle. His gaze narrowed and he began to make a retort, when Ron spoke again softly, "_Vulnera Sanentur... Tergeo..._" His wand made little circles as the words left his lips. When had Ron pulled out his wand?

The deeper gashes tickled and stretched, slowly pulling themselves together, flesh knitting itself back into place. The blood that stained Snape's clothing was whisked away. He still looked like a wreck in his tattered clothing, but at least he wasn't a bleeding wreck. Snape stood deathly still throughout the whole treatment, his gaze never leaving that of the Weasley's. His fists balled unconsciously, but it was the only physical symptom of his inner distress. "I thought I made it clear that I do not require anyone's assistance." The words were dangerous in tone, quiet and frigid. They seemed to have little affect on Ron, however, as he only shrugged in response.

"If it's any consolation, Esmond, you can still fix your clothing and your hair." He smiled with satisfaction, obviously pleased with himself. Although Snape would not admit it to himself, he was impressed with the familiarity and expertise that the Weasley had used when handling the healing charms. This did not, however, stop Snape from being any more harsh with his words at the behavior Ron had shown.

"I assure you, your worries are misplaced. If you truly hold my best regards... then you would be best to leave. Now." Snape growled the words out, low and menacing, and again they were greeted only with a nonchalant shrug.

"Suit yourself. See you 'round." With one more curious glance, Ron Weasley finally left, following the path that his friends had taken what felt like so long ago. Furrowing his brow, Snape made sure to keep the coldest glare upon him as he left, as if intending to turn the annoying boy to stone if he had the audacity to turn around to face him once more. Why had he stayed behind anyway? It infuriated him that the Weasley boy had the nerve to go against his wishes, even though he had made them plainly clear...

Snape's features became serene and unreadable once more as a curious thought dawned on him once more. Questions now flowed through his thoughts in the stead of seething annoyance.

Why hadn't Potter and the girl noticed that Ron had stayed behind...? And what was that damned, knowing look Ron had given him?

When did the world suddenly decide to stop making sense?


End file.
